


Observing Roger

by leodis57



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 06:55:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leodis57/pseuds/leodis57
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story is inspired by the YouTube vid which shows Roger shaking hands with the other players at the ATP WTF in London 2011.    Novak and Rafa have contrasting thoughts when watching Roger shaking hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Observing Roger

Novak

Novak strolled up to the group of players gathered for a photo shoot. He was feeling good, confident, pleased with himself, a slight swagger in his walk demonstrating his self-assurance and pride. He was the number one seed and life was sweet.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Roger Federer approaching. He tensed, watching as Federer walked up to the waiting group and began shaking hands with each of the players, acting like he was the king and they were the subjects. Damn. He wished he had thought to do that, then he would have had the advantage.

Roger advanced towards him smiling, palm open. They shook hands and exchanged brief words of greeting. A formality. Underneath the façade of politeness there was little love lost between them. Nevertheless he returned Federer’s smile, only his eyes betraying his discomfort. There was no doubt Roger’s easy charm and innate confidence was a winning combination. That was something he needed to cultivate himself. After all, if there was a king around here then it certainly was him, Novak Djokovic. He remembered his mother’s words “The king is dead, long live the king”; how fitting, how right. So why did Federer always make him feel like a jumped-up pretender?

He watched as Roger turned to shake hands with Andy Murray, continuing his royal progress. Novak wondered what Murray’s views were on Federer – he must sound him out one of these days. Behind Murray was Rafa Nadal. Preoccupied as he had been with Federer, Novak hadn’t noticed Rafa’s quiet arrival. Novak observed how Rafa moved forwards, eyes shining, as simultaneously Roger bypassed Jo Tsonga to clasp Rafa’s hand. So the bromance was continuing, Novak thought; he didn’t know the exact nature of their relationship but whatever it was their obvious delight in each other left him with a sour taste.

Rafa had his arm across Roger’s shoulder as Roger slipped his around Rafa’s waist. Their faces were glowing as they greeted each other. Novak wondered what they were saying but then thought it really didn’t matter as their body language said it all. He felt a stab of jealousy. The hugs that lasted just a fraction longer than was necessary, the loving touches, shy smiles and fond looks – he was the outsider noting every one.

Novak had made attempts to win over Nadal and drive a wedge between him and Federer. For a little while it seemed to be working, as Rafa responded to his overtures of friendship and they went for a meal or spent leisure time together. Rafa had an innocence about him that was easy to manipulate. However, he was finding that their friendship would only go so far; Rafa would smile and joke with him but his heart and soul clearly belonged elsewhere.

As he continued watching he noted how Federer and Nadal couldn’t take their eyes off each other. It was if they were mesmerised. Roger had looked away but now turned back to catch Rafa’s eye; Rafa returned his gaze with a look full of promise and meaning. Novak hated to feel excluded; whatever it was that bound those two so tightly together he knew deep down he wanted to be part of it. A small smile crossed his face; he made a silent vow to intensify his efforts to come between them.  
…………………….

 

Rafa

Rafa was feeling edgy, nervous. He didn’t like these sorts of occasions and could think of much better ways of spending his time than standing around and posing at a players’ photo shoot. Being at home with his friends and family was infinitely preferable. 

He looked around at his colleagues and nodded and smiled. He hoped he wouldn’t get drawn into a conversation in English – he was conscious his lack of fluency in that language put him at a disadvantage. Not for the first time Rafa wished he shared Roger’s ease and flair; nothing ever seemed to faze him. 

Thinking of Roger made him feel safe, warm, loved. He scanned the assembled players looking for his lover, knowing that once he saw him his mood would lift. When he spotted a familiar figure making his way through the group, his heart gave a thud; Roger was shaking hands with each of the players, smiling, sharing a few words before moving onto the next person. Standing at the back, Rafa was unsure as to whether Roger had spotted him; part of him liked that feeling – it enabled him to indulge in a little pleasurable observation.

As usual, Roger was dressed to perfection. The way he wore his suit set him apart from the others, sophisticated but natural – as though he had been born to wear it. He had none of Rafa’s self consciousness and awkwardness at having to wear formal clothes. Rafa recalled a conversation they had had on this topic; he had been bemoaning the fact that he had to wear a suit. 

“It is alright for you, Roger, you always look good. It is not for me, it is not my style”.

He had been chided by Roger. “You can’t always dress as if you’re going to the beach. It’s a case of making an effort with your appearance”. 

Roger had made several attempts to get Rafa to take more of an interest in clothes, none of which had been particularly successful. Rafa touched his tie, instinctively knowing that the way he had tied it wouldn’t meet Roger’s high standard. Roger would have tied it deftly, quickly – he must ask for another demonstration from those skilful hands.

Roger was moving closer, shaking hands with Djokovic. Rafa knew that Novak wasn’t Roger’s favourite person but as usual he made a good job of covering up his dislike. Roger had warned him that Novak was trying to come between them and he believed him; a shiver ran through him as he saw how closely Novak watched Roger.

The minute Rafa’s eyes met Roger’s it was if the world stood still and there was just the two of them. As they clasped each other’s hands the other players seemed to fade from view. The warmth of Roger’s touch was electric and Rafa felt his face burn with love and desire; with eyes shining he placed his right hand on Roger’s shoulder as Roger’s arm encircled Rafa’s waist. They stayed like that for a second longer than they should, the passion in Roger’s eyes devouring Rafa and forcing him to lower his eyes, blushing like a love-sick girl.

In that moment of connection Rafa heard Roger whisper “Later”, a single word that carried a world of meaning. Rafa felt his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth; he could only respond with his eyes, holding Roger’s with an intensity that promised of pleasure to come. As Roger turned reluctantly away Rafa kept his eyes on him knowing that his lover would look back once more, hunger and longing written on his face. How long they could sustain such a relationship Rafa didn’t know – sometimes its intensity scared him. One thing he was sure of, however, was his determination to hold onto what they had with every fibre of his being.


End file.
